


A Normal Quiet Afternoon

by ineffablycurious



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Background Case, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock is a Mess, Tea, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25238743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablycurious/pseuds/ineffablycurious
Summary: A normal, quiet afternoon at 221b Baker StreetorSherlock takes a nappie-poo for a bit and then is clingy. Crimes against Anderson ensue
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 46





	A Normal Quiet Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> this is technically a roleplay between me and my friend, since I haven't actually posted anything since a p r i l i thought I'd do something. just one chapter.

It was just a normal, quiet afternoon at the flat on 221b Baker Street for once and Sherlock had seemed to have tired himself out with rambling on about cases all day, or so John had hoped. The silence was comforting however, and John had managed to actually get some rest today. He assumed Mrs. Hudson was busy today, seeing as she hadn’t come up to check on the two today, so he decided to make himself some tea instead, but not before Sherlock came to his mind. God, the silence had almost made him forget Sherlock was even there. 

“Sherlock?” He called from the kitchen, as he was getting two mugs ready, “do you want a cup of tea?” he asked, tippy-tapping on the counter.

Sherlock rolled over on the couch, the quiet of the flat rather eerie and unsettling. Normally, he thrived in uncomfortable situations, but in this flat, no, this flat was just not made to be unsettling. He heard John from the kitchen asking if he would like a cup of tea, and he replied "Yes, please, thank you, maybe I could use it to figure out why the tea spilt that way on the coffee table on that one murder scene- so I'm gonna need about 50, give or take a few."

John nearly rolled his eyes at Sherlocks comment before shaking his head with a small laugh. He could definitely tell Sherlock was bored and didn’t particularly enjoy the silence, but he was glad he hadn’t decided to shoot the wall yet, seeing as Sherlock seemed to find that quite entertaining. “Well, you’re going to have to try solving it with one.” He replied, starting to make the tea. “I’m afraid we’re almost out..”

Sherlock mocked a shocked voice. "Us? Almost out of tea? By God, England will fall! Treachery shall be upon us! The apocalypse is near!" he yelled. And, just like he wasn't putting on a very dramatic show, he replied "Very well then, the one will do." 

He sat back down on the couch, tapping his hands on his thighs. Bored. Where the hell did he put his gun?

“Not to worry though, I suppose I can always go out and get us some more, or perhaps I’ll ask Mrs. Hudson. It’s not the end of the world.” He said, in hopes to reassure Sherlock. 

Once he’d finished making the two cups of tea, he walked over and carefully handed one over to Sherlock. “Careful, it’s still hot.”

Sherlock gave a rare smile and took the tea, immediately sipping it and not caring about the burn. "Is it not the end of the world? Are you sure? Because I have been therorising for several years that if we ran out of tea that the world would absolutely end? And how I am always right?" He teased, gulping down his tea before he realized what he was doing. He was quite thirsty. "I guess I'll have to test it with water." he muttered, looking almost forlornly at the empty cup.

John was rather stunned at how quickly Sherlock had been able to drink his tea. He let out a small sigh, taking a sip of his own tea. “I have heard you can quite easily drown yourself by drinking too much, ..so I think it’s time to slow down on this.. tea case of yours, Sherlock.” He mumbled, “it’s quite easy to spill tea when being murdered, I don’t think there’s too much to it.”

Sherlock huffed, turning upside down on the couch. "Drinking too much? Drinking! Oh, I THOUGHT that tea tasted weird! It was spiked. The man couldn't have alcohol, so that's how he had a heart attack and died. Therefore, it was the sister, who was the only one who knew. Her alibi was flimsy anyway." he muttered, getting more tired by the second. "We need to-" Yawn. "Tell Grayson-" Big yawn. "And get another case." s n o r e.

“Ah see, you only needed one to solve it-“ John replied before noticing Sherlock gradually fall asleep as he spoke. He knew how tired Sherlock must be, and with a sigh of relief, he was glad Sherlock was finally going to get some rest. He quietly finished off his tea before getting up and taking both cups to the sink. He soon returned to his chair, a small smile crossing his face as he looked at his sleeping friend who looked so peaceful and quiet when he wasn’t running around the flat trying to solve things.

Sherlock snored rather loudly. Almost like an airhorn. As sugarplums danced in his head, he teetered on the edge of the couch. If he were to fall, well, let's just say that a very annoyed otter would be let into the flat. 

On the other hand, he couldn't remember what sugarplums were. He'd have to ask John. He was good with nonsensical knowledge. If you could even call it knowledge. He called it useless information.

John had to hold back his laughter, as he took back a bit of what he thought about him looking peaceful in his sleep. Sherlock snored a lot and definitely did not look very comfortable and he contemplated whether to help fix him up, get him more on the couch so he wouldn’t fall, But he also didn’t want to wake him. He fought with himself over this.

Sherlock snored again, teetering more. He mumbled something about "if I fall onto this floor, I'm gonna get a honey badger, kill it, gut it, shove the guts up Anderson's ass, take the skin, turn it into powder, snort it, and then when I'm high, poison anderson with napalm and turn his bones into fucking bullets and shoot the rest of his dead body with it." or something along those lines. "And then I'm gonna bury it under the fucking floorboards." he said in a hissing voice. Baby's angry when he gets woken up from his nappy-poo.

“Well I’m certainly not going to let that happen.” John said in a very concerned tone, more to himself than the sleeping detective. He got up from his chair, walking around to sherlocks side. He hummed to himself, trying to think on how he’d do this without Sherlock falling onto the floor with him possibly following. He managed to eventually lift Sherlock and move him to a better position on the couch, grunting with the effort. Sherlock was a little heavier than he expected.

Sherlock hummed happily as he was picked up and readjusted. "Thanks, my heart." he mumbled drowsily followed by another loud snore. He practically drooled on the couch because- well, he was sleeping. He was rather tangled in his shirt, to be honest, and it was rather annoying. "Gonna drown this shirt in lava and mail it to Anderson so his fucking house burns down." he mumbled, fussing with it.

“You’re so clumsy when you’re tired, Sherlock.” John replied warmly, helping him fix up his tangled shirt. “And.. well, grumpy.” He chuckled, before quickly fetching Sherlock a blanket. It almost felt as if he were tucking a child into bed, but instead he was tucking in his drooling mess of a friend. It didn’t bother him though, he cared about Sherlock a lot, and wanted to make sure he was 100% comfortable.

Sherlock smiled a bit as he was fixed up. He'd have to remind himself to thank John later. His eyes opened just a tad as he looked up, still in the threshold of sleep, but his eyes cracked open. He breathed ever so quietly as he watched John. He took the blankie in his fists and pulled it over his mouth, just to say something. Thank you. You're the best. I love you, John. I love you. "I love you." he might have let slip out, just barely a whisper. And he let himself be taken by sleep. Sweet, sweet, sleep. He'd forgotten how lovely it was.

John smiled softly, only just hearing Sherlocks words as he fell back to sleep. John would say the same words back, but not before he gently moved a loose curl out of Sherlock's face. 

“I love you too.” He replied, unsure as to whether Sherlock would hear him.

-3 hours later-

Sherlock sighed as he sadly realised that sleep would not be coming back for him. He did not want to be up and about for now. He didn't even want to think. It must be comforting, being stupid. He'll have to ask Anderson about it sometime. He cracked his eyes open, and stole a peek at John, who was of course, in his chair. He almost relied on the fact that John would be there for him when he most needed it. He sighed quietly. "John?" he asked, ever so quietly, in his deep deep voice. "Would you come lay with me?" He asked, raising an arm so when John (hopefully) came he could hold him, and make sure he was there and safe.

John had nearly dozed off and fallen asleep himself while quietly reading through a newspaper. And when Sherlock had woken up and asked the question, he looked up from his paper, a smile crossing his face. It was impossible to say no to a request like that, especially from Sherlock. “I suppose I could, for a bit, yes.” He cleared his throat before getting up from his chair, abandoning the newspaper he was reading. 

“Did you enjoy your nap?” He asked as he made his way over, eventually making himself comfortable on the couch with Sherlock.

Sherlock smiled as John got situated. "My nap was calming. I had a dream that I was performing neurosurgery on Anderson, but when we opened him up we discovered that he had no brain." he explained, tracing patterns that nobody could see on John's back. He continued further. "Though, for some reason Anderson had yellow fish fins and the hospital was in the sky. Very strange indeed." He remarked, chuckling at himself. He looked at John a minute. "You're very close. It's nice. I can understand why normal people like this. It makes me feel safe." He rambles, essentially stating to John that they were cuddling and that Sherlock felt safe. He smiled a bit more. That, he didn't do often. He wondered what was up with him today. 

John shook his head with a chuckle at Sherlocks strange dream, thinking it’d be better to not ask how his mind came up with such weird things. He then smiled again at Sherlocks next comment, glad that he was capable of making Sherlock feel safe. The man who always seemed to be on edge, felt safe with him. “Well yes.. being close to someone you trust does tend to make you feel safe.” He replied. 

Sherlock looked up at the ceiling, thinking. The atmosphere was calm, they were close, and for once in a million years, he did not feel the need to go get a case. He looked back to John and grinned. "I feel like playing Connect Four, John. But it's actually Connect 2. And it's our lips we're connecting." he mumbles, slightly embarrassed that he's using a pickup line to ask John to kiss him. He would never admit it, but he was also deathly nervous. 

John sat up slightly, looking over to Sherlock. “Was that one of your pick up lines in attempts to flirt, Sherlock?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. “I must say, that was quite impressive.” 

He then noticed how nervous Sherlock looked, which was rare, Sherlock had never looked so nervous. 

Oh what the hell, John thought. Going in for it without any hesitation.

Sherlock listened to John, almost thinking that it wasn't going to happen. But it did. And it was amazing. Sherlock melted, smiling into the kiss and bringing John's shirt into a fist. This had to be the best nap he's had in a while. 

It was just a normal, quiet afternoon at the flat at 221b Baker Street. 


End file.
